I Like The Way It Hurts
by Northen
Summary: Viktor/Hermione. Written for those who requested a story involving rape. NOTE: THIS STORY DOES NOT INVOLVE RAPE, JUST S&M. It is an erotic story told from Viktors perspective on the evolution of his sexual relationship with Hermione.


Authors Note: So it has been a while and for that, I am sorry. I have been very busy the past few months. Lately I have had many requests for stories involving rape, I don't like writing about rape so I choose not to. However, S&M does not breach that boundary so, for those who have requested it, here is 'I Like the Way It Hurts'. As I am sure many can figure out, it is the title of an Eminem song and that song was a big inspiration for this story. I hope you enjoy!

I Like The Way It Hurts

The room was dark as I quietly opened the door. '_That's funny_,' I thought to myself. '_Hermione doesn't usually go to bed this early._' I shrugged off the thought as I kicked off my shoes. It had been a long day. I knew she had been stressed lately so I made my way to our bedroom as quietly as I could. I didn't want to disturb her if she was sleeping.

I twisted the door knob as gently as possible; I knew this door squeaked if I opened it too fast. What I wasn't expecting was the door being practically torn from my grasp from the other side. It only took a second for me to know it was her. The hands that deftly worked at opening the buttons of my shirt were unmistakably hers. Taking the hint immediately, I fumbled with my belt buckle in my determination to remove my now offensive pants. As soon as I was free of my clothing, I could focus on her. She was already practically naked. A skimpy camisole and even skimpier panties were all that clothed her. Those weren't even a challenge for me. A couple of quick tugs and she was nude.

I mirrored her actions of running my hands along the length of her neck, shoulders, chest and stomach before letting them rest on her hips. We gazed at each other, still not speaking a word to the other before, as if on cue, natural, feral instinct kicked in. The feeling of her lips on mine, her hands on my body seemed a distant memory; the only thing I could focus on was how much I wanted her. I had to have her. She was _mine_. An untamed growl released from my throat as I roughly grabbed her and threw her to the bed.

I could feel her tug her wrists in a feeble attempt to free her hands from my grasp. She wasn't really trying to escape me; she liked this 'game' we played so frequently. We both knew she was no match for my weight against her body, my strength over hers. Her small, lithe frame seemed so pale and delicate below mine. Her chestnut curls lay in masses around her head, bangs plastered to her forehead with sweat and her chest heaving as evidence of her already expressed passion.

When we first made love, so many years ago, it was a slow, desperately sweet, gentle dance. I was so afraid I would hurt her. Gradually, as her sexual experiences with me grew, it turned passionate and erotically aggressive. We both liked it like that.

These were the fleeting thoughts spinning through my mind as I pressed my weight heavily against hers, the heat emanating from her body spread across my chest and stomach like wildfire. I could feel her as she arch her back and hips, trying to draw me deeper into her but I like to be teasing, unrelenting. I shifted my weight to my knees and hands, which still claimed her wrists; I merely smirked at her expression of utter exasperation before drawing out almost entirely before thrusting quickly and hard back into her; painfully.

But that was how it usually was for us, how we liked it best. I knew she had to use muggle makeup and magical charms to cover the bruises, lacerations and bite marks caused by our lovemaking because no one would understand. How could they? They would think of me as a vicious brute and of Hermione as a defenceless battered woman. Scars were adornments for men, worn with pride. They weren't something for kind, gentle women. Merlin knows I would never cause her unwanted pain.

I pushed these thoughts out of my mind as I pulled quickly out of her, laughing quietly at the groan that escaped her mouth. I knew she was close but I enjoy teasing her. In the dark, I could barely see more than her silhouette outlined in the dark. Without giving her any sign of warning, I violently grabbed her around the waist, flipping her quickly and thrust into her, relentlessly.

I felt her retaliation immediately with a sharp pain in my wrist that spread quickly up my arms. She bit me! I cried out at the sudden, unexpected pain. She didn't stop; she just bit down harder. She knew me better than anyone; she knew the yell wasn't one of common pain, but one of masochistic pleasure. The more it hurt, the better it felt.  
I thrived in that sting, that pleasure as it seared up my arm. The feeling of her jaw surrounding my wrist, her teeth breaking through the sensitive skin of my forearm; it made me want her all the more, made me become even harder inside of her.

She wanted pain, I would give her pain. Still thrusting into her from behind, I pulled her up so her back was against my chest and bit her sharply on the crook of her neck, feeling the tissue underneath swell with fresh blood from the already-forming bruise. She yelped in surprise. I shifted my hand from around her waist and cupped her breast, pinching her nipples sharply between my fingers. She must have liked that. All I felt then was a sudden pain at the back of my head as she pulled my hair, wrenching me away from her. I was so focussed on her; I had barely noticed her arm come around my head to grab a fistful of my hair. She lifted herself off of me and pushed all her weight against me, using the momentum of her falling forward to drive me back against the wall, still not relinquishing the hold on my hair.

The searing pain in my shoulder from hitting the picture frame was soon forgotten at the feeling of her lips on mine, the pressure of her teeth biting down. I let her play the dominant role, enjoying the feeling. She released my hair and dragged her hands sharply down my chest. I could feel the skin tear and rip under her nails. Her nails bit sharply into my thighs as she lowered herself down and took me into her mouth. She would let her teeth graze over the sensitive skin of my shaft and over the head before taking me deep again. She did this for several minutes before I couldn't take it anymore. I pushed her by her shoulders, forcing her to the ground. I know there would be bruises on her arms in the morning but that was part of it. I forced myself into her without any warning, faster than I had intended. She never let out scream like that before. I froze still, mid thrust, thinking I had really hurt her. Her heels dug sharply into my hips, assuring me that I hadn't really hurt her.

My weight was shifted off center as my foot slipped out from under me and she used this opportunity to push me further so that it was now me laying flat on my back on the hard wood floor. There was a hint of a smirk on her face; she knew she had won this game. I laid back and enjoyed the feeling of the movement of her body over mine, her moist vagina clenching and relaxing as she reached orgasm. Her fingers gripped my biceps sharply in as she climaxed, mirroring mine digging into her thighs as I reached my peak, spilling my seed deep into her.

She let her body collapse heavily into mine. We stayed like this for a few minutes before she raised herself up and gently wiped the blood off my lip. I would get her back next time.


End file.
